Page 8 of Silent Lucidity

Fortunately, Tenthil’s memory of the club’s layout had held firm during the chaos; one of the corridors with a ceiling hatch stood directly to his left. He fired two quick shots at the table and scurried into the corridor, slamming the door shut behind him.

The hall was thankfully deserted. Tenthil returned the blaster to his belt and broke into a run, glancing toward the ceiling. Once he deemed himself close enough, he leapt, kicking off the right wall to propel himself higher. He bounded off the left wall once he reached it, thrusting himself high enough to grasp the pipes above the smooth portion of the wall. It took seconds to climb to the hatch from there. Bracing his feet on the ductwork nearby, he grasped the wheel and exerted pressure.

Muffled shouts from beyond the closed door echoed down the hallway. Gritting his teeth, Tenthil threw more strength into trying to open the hatch. The wheel groaned as it moved, its rotation easing with each turn. He shoved the hatch up the second the latching arms had released and hauled himself through the opening.

He emerged on a rooftop about ten meters below the metal framework that comprised the Undercity sky. The nearby spotlights moved of their own accord, casting powerful beams on the metal overhead. The door in the corridor below clanged open and the shouts grew immediately louder. Muscles tensed, Tenthil gently lowered the hatch, holding his breath until it was fully, silently closed. As he’d guessed, there was no locking mechanism on the top side; it opened and sealed only from within.

With luck, they’d never know where he went.

After giving the roof a final scan, he hurried toward the next rooftop. His contract was fulfilled, but he had a feeling it was far from over. The mission had been badly mishandled. He had only himself to blame, and that was exactly how the Master would see it.

The only positive had been the terran female.

At least he could take solace in the fact that he had a strong lead to seek her out—if her owner, Cullion, was as rich and powerful as he’d behaved, he would be easy to find.

Two

Large, rough hands bit into Abella’s arm as the vorgal bodyguard dragged her toward the metal box on the back of Cullion’s hovercar. She didn’t resist when he shoved her into the cage—she couldn’t overpower him, and it would only earn her a harsher punishment to try.

She was in deep enough shit as it was.

Abella scooted into the corner, drew her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her legs. A faint hum permeated the crate as the front force field was activated. She glanced at the indistinct lines of energy sealing off the opening to watch the vorgal coil the loose end of her leash around his hand. He passed the leash to Cullion when the ertraxxan, chin lifted in displeasure, arrived.

“We are ready to depart, sir,” one of the other bodyguards said.

Abella had never bothered to learn their names; Cullion paid them far too well for any of them to show her even a sliver of sympathy, if they were even capable of such to begin with.

Cullion yanked on the leash, tugging Abella forward. Her face hit the thrumming energy bars before she could catch herself. The sting brought immediate tears to her eyes, and she cried out. Flattening her hands on the floor of the cage, she tried to pull her face away, but her owner held the leash taut.

“I do not know which is more insufferable—your continued disobedience, or the tralix’s continued incompetence.” Cullion leaned closer to her. His small, dark eyes gleamed with reflected light from the energy bars. “You will know agony as never before. I have tolerated much from you and have been merciful in your discipline until now, but you’ve proven yourself resistant to good sense with that little act of yours. I’d hoped you knew better.”

Abella glared at him despite her pain.Merciful? Cullion had only shown her mercy unwittingly through his disgust. He thought her little more than an animal, an exotic pet for display and performance—the thought ofanyonelonging for her sexually was obscene to him. That attitude had been the only thing to keep her from being groped—or worse—by Cullion and his associates.

Cullion curled the leash tighter around his hand and applied more pressure, forcing more of her skin against the energy field. Abella gritted her teeth but couldn’t prevent the pained sounds from escaping her. Though the field wouldn’t cause permanent damage or even leave much of a mark, it hurt like hell.

“Remember your place,” Cullion said through his teeth before finally loosening his grip.

Abella thrust herself away from the energy field and slammed against the back of the crate. She covered her face with her hand, hoping the slight pressure she applied could assuage the lingering sting.

Cullion attached the end of the leash to the outside of the cage and stepped away. He instructed the driver to return to his estate, and the hovercar rocked gently as he and his bodyguards climbed into the cab.

Animalsdid not get to ride inside luxury hovercars.

The car doors hissed shut. As the engines revved up—producing a deep, barely perceptible whirring sound—the protective field that cocooned the exterior of the cage shimmered into place.

Abella closed her eyes and let the silence created by the field envelop her. Her body relaxed, sagging against the side of the cage as she sought to turn her thoughts away from what was to come. Music played in her mind, each note blending into the next, beginning as a soothing melody. The notes soon changed in rhythm and tempo; in her mind’s eye, she was back in the club, dancing across the stage. Free. It was only during these quiet, isolated moments that she could imagine herself back on Earth, performing for a loving, appreciative audience who didn’t look at her like she was a piece of meat.

But her mind went tohim—the stranger who’d joined her on stage.

Her fear in the moment she’d met his gaze for the first time had been overwhelming and only intensified when he took her hands.No onewas permitted to touch her. Her mind had reeled with uncertainty—what would Cullion do to him? Toher?

But her fears had faded to nothing as she’d stared into those hypnotic, ethereal eyes with their slitted pupils. His gaze had held her captive, reducing the entirety of existence to Abella and the stranger; there’d been no stage, no audience, no Cullion, no slave collar around her neck.

Though she didn’t know his species and had never seen his like before—and despite his pointed ears, pale gray skin, sharp features, and entrancing eyes—there’d been a familiarity in his face that offered her solace. He looked just human enough to put her at ease. The stranger was handsome, if menacing; a scar at each corner of his mouth, slanting up to his cheekbones, had given a sinister twist to his otherwise stoic expression she’d found just a bit more intriguing than intimidating. Abella was tall for a woman at five feet, ten inches, but he was at least a foot taller, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist.

And the way he’dmoved...

Had she not known better, she might’ve mistaken him for a trained dancer. But something about him—the control he’d exhibited, the speed with which he’d reacted to her steps, the solidness of his hold when he’d lifted her—whispered there was more to him.

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